


Lick Your Cigarette, Then Kiss Me

by waketosleep



Series: Bat-Merlin [3]
Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2009-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 23:56:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waketosleep/pseuds/waketosleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin doesn't actually seem to know what a wingman is for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lick Your Cigarette, Then Kiss Me

"Merlin," Arthur said, appearing in the doorway of the library, "we're going out, get ready."

Merlin stood up. "I thought we were taking the night off. Is there a situation?"

"No, Merlin, it's not work. Well, it can feel like work sometimes, but that's neither here nor there. We're going to the bar."

Merlin stared; he must have looked quite dumb because Arthur sighed loudly and rolled his eyes.

"You're the one who wanted to be my wingman," he said, spinning on his heel and leaving.

"What?" Merlin blinked, then flinched as he remembered the conversation where he'd said that, in his former life as a gardener. "Hey! Wait!" he called, running after him.

Arthur was down the hall when Merlin caught up. "Seriously? The bar?"

"Yes?"

"It's Tuesday!"

Arthur shrugged. "I'm a wealthy playboy, calendars are beneath my notice. Anyway, crime is slow on Tuesdays, just like everything else." He smiled. "Everything except Avalon. Which is where we're going."

Merlin felt himself break out in a cold sweat. "Are there going to be celebrities there?"

"Maybe. Go get dressed. Try not to wear anything that will embarrass me."

***

Arthur summarily dismissed every shirt in Merlin's wardrobe (which was small enough to be stretching the term) from consideration, leaving Merlin to wear a hand-me-down dress shirt of Arthur's which was clearly a relic of a scrawnier time in his life. It was still a bit loose on Merlin but Arthur waved that off, declaring it the least of his sartorial concerns, whatever that was supposed to mean.

"Shall we take the Lambo or the Veyron?" Arthur asked as they strolled toward the garage shortly after ten.

Merlin was too distracted by the bewitching smell of Arthur's cologne to notice he'd been speaking. Luckily, this was apparently not a problem.

"Nah, the Lambo is a bit too flashy, isn't it? Veyron it is." He grabbed a set of keys from a cabinet in the garage and walked past his fleet of shiny cars to what must have been the one he was talking about.

Merlin frowned at it. If this was Arthur Pendragon's idea of 'not too flashy', then he would have liked to see the Lamborghini for comparison. This was clearly a car that was very expensive and very fast and unafraid to advertise either (much like its owner).

He opened the passenger door and peered inside. "How much is this thing worth?"

"Merlin, that's tacky," Arthur chided, sliding into the driver's seat. "Over a million dollars," he answered anyway. "Bugatti sells them at a loss." He started the engine with a quiet roar as Merlin buckled up and then they were off. Very quickly.

Merlin barely had time to enjoy the luxurious seat he was pinned to before they had pulled up in front of Avalon, in the heart of Camelot's nightlife district. Merlin was assaulted by the sound of heavy bass spilling from the open doors as soon as he got out of the car.

"This is a tow zone, Arthur," he said.

"It's only a tow zone if you're not someone they want parked there," Arthur said flippantly, turning on the car alarm and pocketing his keys. "Come on, Merlin, the night is slipping away from us."

The bouncer waved them past the ridiculous line (Tuesday, Merlin's brain sputtered) and Merlin blinked as they walked inside. The place was all blues and blacks, right down to the lights, the bass seemed to tamper with his own heartbeat, and he was so enveloped by human warmth that it felt like he was in a loud, slightly neon womb.

There was no use talking over the noise, so Arthur just seized his wrist and tugged him through the writhing, semi-nude crowd, past three bars, a frosted glass wall and some velvet ropes with more bouncers, stopping finally in a startlingly quiet VIP area.

"How do they do that?" Merlin asked, wriggling a finger in his ear.

"Acoustics and some soundproofing material." Arthur nodded toward the bar. "Get me a scotch and whatever you drink, on my tab," he said, leaving Merlin to go hold court at a nearby cluster of leather couches.

When the bartender heard that the scotch was for Arthur, she went for a bottle apparently hidden under the bar, so Merlin shrugged and made it two. It even smelled ridiculously expensive and when Merlin took a small sip, he found he had to approve of Arthur's taste.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at Merlin's drink choice but merely took his own glass without a word, leaving Merlin to settle in an armchair nearby and people-watch--or possibly just Arthur-watch--as the man somehow managed to mingle with the room without ever moving. Flocks of the well-dressed affluent and their trashily-dressed entourages circled the room in a complicated pattern that brought each of them by Arthur's seat in turn, sometimes stopping to sit for ten minutes before moving on and being replaced by another group. People lingered though, and by midnight they were surrounded by a half-dozen people who looked as if they were there for the duration, sipping beers and bright cocktails and doing rounds of shots that Arthur kept gracefully turning down. Merlin thought he recognized a few people from the tabloids. It took Arthur two hours to finally finish his scotch enough to send Merlin for another round, but if Merlin hadn't been in a position to know better, he might have said the man was drinking on pace with the rest of the group. His cunning was depthless.

At a quarter to one, just as all the females in the circle finished a shot that was apparently called a Dirty Hooker and smelled like Kool-Aid, leaving one of them so drunk that she was practically passing out in Arthur's lap, a truly stunning brunette appeared from nowhere and planted herself gracefully on the couch on Arthur's left.

"And what are we getting up to this evening?" she said, smirking at Arthur and his lap decoration and then turning a polite, curious smile on Merlin.

"The usual tricks," Arthur replied lazily, expertly sliding out from under the drunk girl and shooing the newcomer over to make room. "What brings you here, Morgana?"

She draped an arm over his shoulders and leaned back. "A little birdie texted me with the news that you'd emerged from your hidey-hole and I had to see it for myself. Who's your cute friend?" she said suddenly, and Merlin realized with a start that she meant him.

Arthur shared a look with him that Merlin was at a loss to interpret, if there was a message in it at all. "That's Merlin," he said. "He's my new personal assistant."

"What kinds of things do you assist him with, then, Merlin?" she purred, turning her smirk on him for the first time. Her tone was wicked and he fought back a blush, taking a gulp of his scotch to hide his face. That was a bad idea; he tried not to cough as it burnt down his throat. Morgana saw right through him and laughed, loud and rich and lovely-sounding.

"Leave him alone, you harpy." Arthur sounded more amused than annoyed but there was a dark look in his eyes, aimed at Morgana, who just smiled back.

"I suppose you've just been sitting here all night," she said, changing the subject abruptly and obviously. "Neglecting all these ladies. And Merlin. Hasn't he?" she said more loudly, at the group of varyingly intoxicated social climbers. The more aware ones grinned back and one blonde hopped to her feet.

"Yes, let's go dance," she said, and several people got up to join her. Morgana pulled Arthur to his feet while he protested in vain and Merlin followed, smiling at Morgana's encouraging wink as they all moved from the VIP lounge to the still-crowded dance floor.

There was just enough alcohol in Merlin's system now to temper the volume of the music and convince him that dancing was a good idea, as two women started moving against him, their earrings sparkling in the lights. Morgana was dancing with Arthur, and Merlin watched as she leaned in to yell something into his ear. Arthur frowned at whatever it was but they kept dancing and then the sudden press of girl all along his front drew Merlin's attention away.

Girls were perfectly alright, and there were three of them around him now, two of them hangers-on from the lounge, dancing in a drunken, uninhibited way and feeling him up shamelessly, and Merlin was not an idiot. He danced, and smiled, and flirted, and let his hands roam, and then Morgana was there, the other girls backing away in respect of her dominance. Her hands looped behind his neck as his hands found her hips and the bass thrummed through their bones and vibrated through their fingertips as they moved. Her lips were perfect and her hair was long and black and she was giving him a sultry look, so he kissed her.

She moved right up against him and twisted her body in a nearly obscene way as her tongue slid against his in a definitely obscene way. Merlin's heart thudded and then the back of his neck tingled (nothing to do with her fingernails scraping lightly against his scalp or stroking his hair) and he opened his eyes with his tongue still in her mouth.

Arthur was watching.

Now he was hard and Merlin shut his eyes again, throwing himself into the sensations of kissing Morgana. His mind raced. Arthur and Morgana seemed to be sort of an item. Except that Morgana was practically fucking Merlin with their clothes on. But maybe Arthur liked to watch. Merlin wondered suddenly if Morgana knew what Arthur did with most of his nights, if that banter about his being a hermit had all been for show, if she knew that Merlin probably wasn't actually a personal assistant.

She moved to bite his earlobe and he looked up again, meeting Arthur's eyes. Arthur was nominally dancing with one of the women from the VIP lounge but all of his attention was on Merlin and Morgana. Merlin was intensely aware of his messy hair and swollen lips and the hickey that Morgana seemed to be giving him. He moaned a little, unable to keep it in, and felt her laugh against his skin. Arthur just watched in that intent way he sometimes had, and suddenly Merlin realized with a start who he was actually watching.

Not Morgana. Him.

Morgana kissed her way back up his jaw, drawing his attention back, and with one last, searing kiss to the lips, she leaned up to his ear and said, "Arthur's a lucky man," before vanishing into the crowd with a smile on her face like the cat who'd got the cream.

The song changed and there was a lull in the dancing as masses of people went in search of more drinks, and Arthur took his opportunity to detach himself from his dance partner.

"Have a good time?" he smirked at Merlin, whose appearance was probably past fixing.

Merlin nervously reached up to flatten his hair anyway. "Are we leaving?"

"It's after three; nearly last call. Unless you were going to find your own way home later?"

"N-no," Merlin stuttered, "let's go."

Arthur was fine to drive after fewer than two scotches over the course of the night, so they left via the front door with a nod to the bouncer and Merlin settled into the passenger seat of the Bugatti and listened to his ears ring as Arthur took off down the mostly-dead streets, aiming for Pendragon Manor.

They drove home in silence and were making their way up the driveway before Merlin found the courage to ask a burning question. "So you and Morgana... are..."

"Nope," Arthur said. He glanced over at Merlin. "Watch out for that one. She'll eat you for lunch."

"You have a history?" he hazarded, as Arthur guided the car back into the garage.

"She works for the mayor's office," he said, putting the car in park. "She has a lot of contact with my dad and thinks that entitles her to have a lot of contact with me." His feathers sounded distinctly ruffled about this. "She pursued me for a while but she got over it, I guess." Arthur got out of the car.

Merlin followed him into the house, becoming aware of the sweat cooling on his skin as he stepped into the air conditioning.

"Oh, your shirt--" he started, but Arthur waved a hand.

"Keep it. We'll find you something more respectable for next time. I'm going to bed."

Merlin watched Arthur's retreating back all the way to the stairs before letting out a quiet sigh and going to bed himself. He was willing to bet that he made the worst wingman in history; hopefully it wasn't a reflection on his sidekick abilities.

He also wondered briefly, as he scrubbed the sweat off in the shower, if his ears would still be ringing when it was time to train the next day.

 

THE END


End file.
